Motivation
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: AU. Bart is Central City High's star athlete. With his head so high in the clouds with thoughts of play offs, he begins slacking off in his schoolwork, requiring him to get a tutor. Bluepulse


**Although this was written as a prize fic for iwa-kid on Deviantart (she placed second _and _first in the JaimexBart's 2013 Reverse AU Contest so you should totes go look what she did), I wanted to put it on here as well. Whoo. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the mentioned characters. **

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With playoffs two weeks away now, the last thing Bart Allen needed was a tutor.

From the way his grandparents preached it, you would think that they had read it straight from the scriptures, but Central City High's star athlete could quite frankly care less. It didn't matter if the only Spanish he could speak was what he needed to know to order something at El Magueys, or even if his talents in math weren't much higher than a seventh grade level.

"It doesn't matter! When am I even going to use this stuff?" he had protested as his grandma had placed the call to the school, "The only thing I need to know is whether I should pass the ball or just run with it!"

It turned out that debating wasn't very high in his talents either, seeing that within a day, he was already scheduled to stay after to meet the upper classman who had volunteered to help him.

That hour would've cut into football practice though, and Bart had no intention of doing the make-up drills, so he shrugged off the tutoring session and went straight from his last hour to the football field.

The scheduled practice wasn't too hard—just a bit frustrating. After Johnson's mess up last week that had almost cost them the game, the coach had them all running skate drills to make sure it wouldn't happen again. Compared to what they _could _have been doing, the fourteen year old was plenty thankful, but doing the same thing _over _and _over _again, especially something this easy, was like a kick in the head.

Twenty minutes in, just as Bart was jogging back to be the second blocker for Johnson's run—oh, he was so looking forward to 'accidentally' knocking this kid from his feet—the coach's whistle trilled sharp across the field.

"Allen!" he hollered, jerking the auburnet's head up with a start and jogging him over to the man's side as the whistle was blown again and he was replaced by a smug junior who was more than eager to get his hands on the runner.

When Bart made it over, pushing his sweat-slicked hair back, he couldn't help but give the Hispanic teen beside the coach a twice-over. He had to have been a junior at the very least, more lean than he was muscular, with dark hair curled ever so discretely.

The fourteen year old was quick to flash the teen a grin, "Hey."

The Hispanic gave a little smirk and averted his eyes out to the field, "Hey."

Bart admired him a second longer before returning his attention to the coach with a more expectant kind of smile.

"Doing something you don't like, coach?" he teased, knowing how fond the man was of him and his talent.

He wasn't the star player for his devilish good looks, as he would always remind the other boys when he earned the coach's interest, who would always tell him it was because his grandma was a news anchor who could ruin the school's reputation with a single story.

"You have anything else planned for today, kid?"

The auburnet cringed at the name, knowing it was the one the coach used only when he was disappointed with someone. It took him a moment to remember he was supposed to attend tutoring today, but there was no way his coach would've heard about that, so he shook his head.

"Besides creaming Johnson out there today, I have a pretty free schedule. Why? You wanting to see a movie?"

He couldn't help but grin victoriously as he caught the Hispanic muffle a little laugh at that, swaying a bit in place.

'Yeah, still got it,' he congratulated himself.

The coach wasn't laughing with him. He actually looked pretty ticked, and that wasn't exactly on the fourteen year old's top ten list of things to see today. Emily Browning was though. Ariana Grande too.

"You sure about that?" he baited a bit, glancing down at his clipboard and marking something off, "Because this nice man over here's telling me that you were supposed to meet him for tutoring a little over twenty minutes ago."

The auburnet just about found a way to choke on air, looking back to the Hispanic to see him smiling a bit sarcastically now.

"I'm not some cheerleader you can just stand up, jockstrap," he gave a little smirk and the fourteen year old felt his heart sink.

He had always thought cute tutors were just the stuff of movies. Now he felt guiltier than Johnson did.

"Christ, I-," he combed his hair back in frantic apology, giving a deep sigh, "I'm so sorry. Just uh… just let me throw some clothes on, alright?"

The older teen gave a chuckle and he shook his head, glancing to the coach for confirmation before looking back to the fumbling athlete.

"Don't bother; we can just study out here. Only half an hour," he started over to the bleachers, beckoning the younger to follow him, "Think you can make it?"

Bart gave a nervous laugh and nodded, jogging to catch up with him, pausing only once to check his reflection in the metal of the locker room's door.

"I'll try," he combed down what he had seen sticking up, trying to keep his steps up the bleacher stairs light until he came to sit beside his tutor.

As the Hispanic pulled up his book bag to get out his study materials, Bart couldn't help but imagine throwing the bag down so he could simply study his tutor. He'd pay more attention to _that _lesson.

"If I had known how attractive my tutor was going to be, I would've showed up on time," he gave a playful wink, grinning wide as he heard the little laugh slip the other's lips, "My name's Bart, Bart Allen."

"Cute," the older teen flipped through a notebook he had pulled out, trying to make sure it was the one he wanted.

The auburnet beamed.

"Am I..?" he rubbed at his neck and scooted just a hair closer, "So, you got a name?"

The notebook was replaced with another one, thumbed through and kept out with a satisfied little nod. At first, Bart's question was ignored and the attention was kept on the book bag as it was slid down onto a bleacher stair and adjusted to assure it wouldn't fall off.

"Jaime Reyes," the tutor held his hand out with a warm smile and Bart took it, letting his hold linger, "You needed help in Spanish and Math, right?"

Bart retracted his hand and let it rest gently on his thigh beside the other.

"Actually, I was thinking we study some science," he began smoothly, scooting a lot closer now, "Start off with some… chemistry… and then see how the world would be without…" he let his hand trail a few inches up Jaime's leg, "_friction_."

Jaime gave a laugh and scooted back, batting the auburnet's hand from his leg, the slightest of a blush over his cheeks. Bart didn't take that as rejection though, and he was just starting.

"No? How about some English then? Make a contraction by putting you and I together," he bit the side of his lip and tried to look as appealing as he could.

A soft sigh left his lips as he caught the brown eyes roll just after a big grin.

"Aren't you a little young to be hitting on me?" his tutor tutted with an undeniable smirk, cracking open his notebook.

Bart's shoulders slumped and he groaned.

"I'm almost fifteen now," he pressed his eyes into his palms, letting out a huff before straightening, "Give me a chance."

There was nothing in the Hispanic's expression that said he wouldn't.

"Alright, I'll make you a deal," Jaime decided, interlacing his fingers on top of his notebook, "I'm going to tutor you. If you get higher than a B on a test in any of the subjects I'm teaching you… and if you're still interested… I'll take you out to a movie."

Needless to say, the two became regulars at the movie theatre, buying two tickets and a large popcorn every Friday night.

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**-F.J. III**


End file.
